40 Isn't Fatal

I entered my 40's this week.  I guess that means I have joined the ranks of the middle-aged.  I think it might be more of an adventure if had joined the ranks of Tolkein's Middle Earth, but I'm good with this Earth and this life.  Talked to a friend on my birthday night, and he asked me how I felt about being 40.  I said, "For real.  All day I've been hearing Linda Evan's voice in my head all day saying, '40 isn't fatal.'"   Such wisdom from none other than Krystle Carrington.  And it looks like she was right.  I survived the day to wake up 40 plus a day and now plus two days.  I hope I make it to 40 plus a whole lot more days, weeks and years!  At any rate, there is something different about turning 40 besides the fact that if I grew out my hair it would look just like Linda Evan's in this photo.  Grey hair aside, I am kind of relieved to be 40.  It means I not only made it through my 20's but they are far enough away that I mostly only remember the good parts.  (Note:  my 20's were a bit of a living hell at least til 28.  All that figuring out who you are, how to be you, having to get a "real" job, no more summer vacations, therapy, therapy, therapy, blah, blah, blah.  Hard work.  Not that I would trade the experience since it is part of who I am, but I don't particularly relish that time of my life).  It means I got to have my 30's, which I loved, well except for that whole Daddy dying part, but I loved turning 30 and being in my 30's.  I had a lot of fun, hell, I had too much fun.
Turning 40 feels like a new lease:  new vision of the future, new town, new career, new possibilities, new, new new! 

I've never been one to care about age.  As long as I'm 6'2" above the dirt and not 6' under it, I'm good with it.  Really if you think about it we really don't age.  We are constantly changing physically and mentally,maybe not in the ways we always want to be, but we are being recreated.  To be alive is a state of continual renewal.  We are truly new every morning, reborn each moment and moving ahead to the next.  Our whole self is always new until the one day it isn't, and that works for me.  All that to say, 40 isn't fatal, and I'm looking forward to the years ahead of me with a sense of encouragement and hope and a belief in the promise that I am a part of tomorrow beginning today. 

Frame Shop News: 

We are getting ready for Art Walk on December 7.  We will have new works from our current artists and we have two new artists showing.  I hope you can come by if you're in town.  It should be a good, fun night.

BriGuy messes up ordering products a lot of late, BUT I'm blaming the computer.  So we have this fancy new computer system, which I love, but since I haven't had training on it, I am self-teaching.  Not really such a big deal until I make a mistake that costs money or worse time!  I like to have a comprehensive understanding of a new system before I start using it. 

Now time for blaming the system.  The software isn't exactly what one would call intuitive.  Lots of little inconsistencies that make me just the tiniest bit agitated.  Having spent a few years writing specs for software development, I can tell that this software was developed quickly and with little end-user input.  Naturally, I've made calls and given my notes and some development suggestions.  I'm pretty sure Bob at Lifesaver gets a really big smile on his face when he gets helpful suggestions from me.  He probably evens uses a finger to show that he thinks I'm number one when he sees my number is on his caller ID.  . 

Whatever. I still made errors I shouldn't have made.  Perfectionist Me is having fits each time he finds out that Get-R-Done Me has made an error.  It got out of hand yesterday, and I had to send them both to their rooms to calm down, reflect on the situation and work on solutions rather than concentrating on the problems at hand.  It's working.  We are all getting along famously so far today.  (yes, I know I sound completely insane). 

My only complaint about the work of framing is dry hands.  All the wood and paper apparently sucks the moisture directly out of one's hands which is a huge problem.   I always have dry skin in the winter like most, but it's compounded because I'm a hand washer.  Some would say I am borderline obsessive about handwashing.  (Doesn't that sound out of character?  Of course it does.  Me, obsessive?  Pshaw.  Silly talk).   Ok, so I wash my hands more than the average guy, but I don't care about that.  I do care about the fact that I can't use lotion after washing my hands at the shop because it will mess up mats, glass etc.  So guess what?  My skin is super dry and cracking and they hurt like unholy hell!  Even bled the other night.  Gross and painful.  Thankfully, Owner gave me some kind of miracle salve which I use the instant I leave each day, but I'm afraid I might have to start wearing surgical gloves or something so I can use lotion while at work.   That is not going to be a good look for me, but I'm afraid I'm headed in that direction.  I can see it now:  I'll look like a deranged, psychotic gansgter come serial killer donning surgical gloves, apron and doo rag weilding an exacto knife.  Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a crazy looking man with a razor blade!  I bet that will be great for business.  I'll let you know how it goes! 

Tis the Season! (almost)



Mama & Russell

Today is my mama’s birthday.  She really is one of the best people I’ll ever know.  She is kind, strong, soulful, full of style, beautiful and brilliant.  Happy Birthday Mama!  I love you.
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I have always been one of those people who never understood why stores decorate for Christmas at Halloween. In fact, I have always been one of those people who holds some disdain for Christmas decoration of any sort, anywhere before Thanksgiving. Now, I get it. It's pretty simple really. It is no surprise that retailers do the lion's share of their business in the last quarter of the year so they need to be able to focus on customers not décor as soon as possible.  Still no excuse for Christmas at Halloween.   

I'm sort of kicking myself that I didn't start decorating the shop for before now. My stubborn belief that Christmas can wait its turn and give Thanksgiving its due is going to be the cause for me having to be at the shop late each night this week to get ready for Black Friday. (I really don't like that terminology, "Black Friday". I can't help but to think of the Black Death, which then makes me think about flea-ridden rats and ragged-voice men calling "bring out cha dead!". Not a very Christmassy thought.  According to Wikipedia the origin of the term "Black Friday" is not a happy one; it's bespeaks the chaos caused by all the traffic on that day.  I wish it had a different name like Forage Friday since that's what people do; they go out and forage for the best deals they can find and that makes me think of furry-faced little woodland creatures and Disney movies. At any rate, I'm letting this one go since I don't think I have a snow ball's chance in H-E-double hockey sticks of changing it.)

I love to decorate for Christmas once I get going. But I'm all Scroogy about it before I get started. I say things like, "I'm not doing anything this year. Nope, not a thing!  No tree, no nothing!" Whatever. It doesn't take much to get the door open, and once the door is open, I'm off and running full bore. Owner and I discussed the decor for the shop and agreed on simplicity, a few poinsettias. Well, that was a week ago before I opened the box of decorations and pulled out a bow, my gateway bow if you will. I'm like a junky now. I need to do Christmas and I need to do it big! In my mind's eye, I can see live garland and lights around the store front with big red velvet bows. I keep thinking "how can I get the ceiling speakers installed quickly so I can pipe in holiday carols?"  I see a trimmed tree in store complete with a train.  I'm rolling on Christmas decorating.  (Owner:  these are visions, not plans).  

I think most retailers do the decorating jig in an effort to create an ambiance that helps customer's loosen their purse strings. While I think increased sales is great side benefit of decking the halls, I'm operating from some internal need to create a beautiful scene, really to create a living dream where things really are all sugar plums and gum drops. And let's be real: this is the one time you can dance on the border of tacky, unleash your decorating drag queen and manage to make it look great. Now, that is fun!  It's kind of like the haute couture runway show of decor - you can do all kinds of crazy stuff that no sane person would ever live with day-to-day.

Last night I made my first batch of cookie dough. Typically, I wait for the weekend after Thanksgiving to transform my kitchen into a cookie factory. But this year, I couldn't wait. I have the holiday bug. Literally, I make hundreds of cookies each year. Iced cookies, spicy cookies, buttery cookies, all kinds of cookies! I love it. I'm not a cake maker, but I'm a cookie maker. I pop in Steel Magnolias or Love Actually, and bake, bake bake! Lucky customers of the Frame Shop and Gallery are going to be able to start enjoying them on Forage Friday, er Black Friday.

This morning, I am going to a have photos done for a Christmas ad. I'm going to be in a Santa hat (cliche'? yes; tiny cringe) with my head inside a frame (tiny cringe again, but my idea, and I think it just might work) surrounded by some of super fun framing projects we've done recently. I'm horribly unphotogenic, but I'm hopeful having a professional take the pics will erase for my inability to have a good picture made! Now, I've got to iron my plaid shirt which screams "holiday" to me, not to mention I am pretty much mad about plaid. Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Decorating!

Re-Framing The Art of Loss

One of the funniest (or crazy making for some...) things about the Frame Shop is our collective propensity to lose things. For some, it may be hard to imagine losing a wallet, but not for us. We are champions. If misplacing every day kinds of things were an Olympic sport, Owner and I would put Michael Phelps to shame with our gold medal winnings.

Since becoming a framer, I have become more fully aware of my gift for misplacing things. I have come to embrace this part of me. I haven't always viewed my "gift" as such. When I was a child, my father would become near apoplectic because I could lose only one shoe. I felt like somehow something was wrong with me, as if I were the problem, like people aren’t supposed to be able to lose stuff.  But now I see and believe that being able to lose only one shoe is quite a feat. Ask yourself, can you lose just one shoe? I doubt it.

I don't mean to brag, but I am really talented when it comes to losing things. Now, when it comes to coffee cups, I can take no credit. It is a proven fact that all coffee cups have tiny wings that allow them to fly away when you set them down and turn your back. That piece of scientific fact aside, I get it: I am a bit distractible, and when I set something down, I am usually thinking of a few thousand other extremely import things like "I wonder what the global whale population is? Did I leave the towels in the dryer? I wish my dogs could talk. I hope they invent a hydrogen car in my lifetime." All that necessary thought is what gives me the ability to forget immediately where I placed a thing, such as my keys, screwdriver, cell phone, glass cutter and you name it ad infinitum.

The only time my super-human ability to misplace things becomes problematic is when I am trying to find the thing I need. For instance, I can get extraordinarily frustrated trying fit together art, mat, frame and glass when I can't find what I need especially when I just had it in hand. This whole "have to find it" thing is Kryptonite. Invariably at this point, my astounding talent for cursing engages.  My gifts really do abound.

Owner and I really do make an effort to have our tools handy and readily available for use. Ok, so really that means we have a bunch of the same tools so there is always an extra available, but that counts. When the Kryptonite is too strong, we simply have to walk away and wait for the missing item to reveal itself. It always does. Owner used to have an antidote for this, The Finder, but alas The Finder moved on to help others.

Not long after I started working at the Frame Shop, Owner told me about Shirley. Shirley worked for Owner for a very long time. I remember her. She was an incredibly kind and talented woman, and I imagine she has a pretty good sense of humor too given how long she worked there. At any rate, Shirley doesn't have the gift of loss. Owner revealed Shirley’s true identity to me. She is The Finder. According to legend, and Owner confirms, The Finder could literally find anything. I completely understand what an asset having a finder is. I used to have a Finder like Shirley who worked for me. She saved my hide numerous times.

Now, every time one of us needs to find something we simply say, "Call Shirley." It's like a prayer or incantation to invoke The Finder. Until we perfect our summoning of The Finder, we are working diligently to tame our gift for losing items so as to lessen our need for The Finder.  I am convinced we shall succeed. 

News from Peckerwood

I've just moved into my mother's house, the house I grew up in. It has been vacant for several years, so it is handy to have it available. Of course, it would be nice to have a buyer turn up, but for now, I am grateful to have a place I can settle into and call my own for a bit.

"Peckerwood" is the name my father gave this place due to the many varieties of woodpeckers inhabiting the woods around our family place. Frankly, the name has always been kind of funny to me, and I have no doubt Daddy thought the same.  None-the-less, I like that our home has a name even if I think it’s rather humorous. There is something almost Southern Gothic, assuming I am using that phrase correctly, about naming the place where you live.  

A hundred plus years ago, my great grandparents named their home in Eureka Springs "Ravenwood", which I always have thought was just about the coolest thing ever.  It sounded grand to me, like Southfork.  They reared their 7 children at Ravenwood, and my parents reared their brood of 7 at Peckerwood.  I enjoy that parallel.  And just so you don’t think I am living in some Arkansan version of the Dynasty house, let me be clear.  This house is no manse adorned with columns and an oak-lined drive.  It is, however, full of its own charms and a wealth of memory fills its walls.  I never imagined I would be living here again, but here am I and happily so.

It has been a very busy past two weeks at work and at home. While all of my stuff has been stored in Mama's house since I moved from Dallas, it was all boxed up. It has taken me far longer than I anticipated to unpack, which is due in part to the ridiculous amount of crap I have accumulated over the years. Really, some of this stuff I look at and think, "Seriously? How did this not get pitched? Why did I ever buy this thing?" Ah...the privilege of having too much.

I've thought quite a good bit about the "stuff" I’ve gathered.  I've wondered why I don't live with less.  Why do we hang things on our walls? Why do we have rugs on our floors?  Why do I think I need 497 wine glasses?  There is a line between reflection on what I need & want and what I call a sense of overwrought American guilt.  Still, I can't help but be reminded of all the people both in our own country and around the world and what they need and don't have. Once my mind gets going on this track I sometimes find myself thinking crazy things like, “I should get rid of it all!  Shouldn’t I be doing something different here?” After all Jesus told his disciples to sell their possessions and give to the poor.  Whoa!  Once I get rolling… say “hello” to OCD BriGuy! After I dig myself out of this morass of musings, I decide I can't help where I was born; it's not really a moral issue that I have a lot of table lamps, and I go on about my merry way. Sound exhausting?  Well, it sure can be, but it’s who I am, how I’m wired. 

So, stuff is mostly unpacked, mostly put away, and I am able to sit at my desk to blog, and I am thankful for it.

It is a crisp morning. I awoke earlier than usual, started my coffee and took a hot cup out on the back deck which overlooks a wooded and densely underbrush-filled two or so acres. Just after walking outside, I spied a deer running through the woods, except I didn’t know it was a deer.  He was really going at a quite a clip considering the tangles of honeysuckle and all the walls of privet hedge he was pushing through. At first I thought it was the neighbors’ dog, Nick. I called out “Nick”, and the deer stopped and turned to face me, and then I knew it was a deer.  He was a pretty deer (or should I say handsome?).  He had 3 points on the left side of his rack and 2 on the right and two center points. My first thought was "I wish I had a shotgun." Really? Where did that come from? The last time I was in the deer woods I was probably 11 or 12. I've never been a hunter, so it was so strange that my first thought was about shooting the deer. My friends in Pittsburgh whose yard is overrun with the creatures probably have the same thought but more in an extermination kind of way, whereas I was thinking about how good fresh venison would be. Again, really? So not BriGuy....or is it? Is this BriGuy's new self in Arkansas?  

As I have told my friends in Steel City, you can keep deer out of your yard by peeing outside, but to-date they have not heeded my counsel.  I learned this handy trick from the mother of one of my dearest friends.  Once, while visiting their home, my friend’s mother announced to all the men in the house that if we needed to use the bathroom, we were to go outside and pee around her garden because the deer were eating up her veggies.  This happened just before she took me outside to meet her crows which by the way came to her “caw”ling.  It was rather impressive.  Is that Southern Gothic? 

The framing biz is going well, and I continue to enjoy the work.  Owner has been super helpful in her instruction.  Whenever there is a problem with a frame, which can happen due to warped moulding, moulding construction etc., I tend to think I jacked it up.  Thankfully, Owner has been able to determine where the issues truly lie, which has not been with my methods, and give me good instruction on how to navigate around similar icebergs I might encounter in the future. 

I continue to be amazed at the number of people who trust me to make decisions for them about mats and frames.  Not in a thousand years would I let someone else do that for me.  I take it as a compliment, but I do find myself wondering, “what if they hate it?”  Well, I just have to redo it I suppose.  Having someone give me control of which frame and mat will be used does tend to make me go into creative hyper-drive.  I find myself thinking about how I could craft a new moulding or refinish an existing moulding, or how I could create a new mat.  While that might sound completely insane, and probably is a bit, I actually love that part of it.  A friend here in town is going to teach me how to make moulding, and I can hardly wait.  I will have to get over my fear of bladed, potentially limb-removing power tools, but I can do that.